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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000408">The Philosophers Squib</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeAnnwyn/pseuds/AxeAnnwyn'>AxeAnnwyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Squibs Tale [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All cats are loved and respected here, At least by the mains, Betaed, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Friendship, Harry is clever too, Light Angst, Modern technology, Mother hen Ron, No Snape apologetics, Sarcastic Harry, Shenanigans, Squib Harry Potter, Trans Harry Potter, Wholesome, cats are Good, so is Harry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:42:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeAnnwyn/pseuds/AxeAnnwyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter but it’s a comedy.<br/>Harry is a squib and must bullshit his way through wizardry with the power of common sense, modern technology and friendship. </p><p>Oh and hes trans because f*ck terfs and JKR for being one.</p><p>Thanks to my brother for putting this hellish idea in my head where it’s sat and wont go away.<br/>Also thanks to Mag, my hero and beta reader.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Squibs Tale [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You're (not) a wizard Harry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the first letter came, Harry was immediately surprised and intrigued for a few different reasons. First, he never got post. Being 11 and all. Second, because it had only been a week since he’d privately decided on his name and the only one he had told about it had been the local cat (his only confedont, but she was a great listener).<br/>
Dudley yanked it from his shaking hands to read.<br/>
“Harry? DAAADD this letters been sent to the wrong address!”<br/>
There was nothing the poor boy could do but stand rock still in horror as Dudley processed the rest of the address on the letter.<br/>
“Cupboard under the stairs? But that’s where -” The chubby boy was cut off by the appearance of his father who took the letter from Dudley.<br/>
Dead silence blanketed the hallway of 21 Privet drive, each second stretched and Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. Vernon Dursley stared at the front of the letter with a similar expression of confusion as his son, but when he turned it over, his complexion  turned a dangerous shade of white. Both boys backed away a step, if the huge man fell, he could squash them flat, even Dudley.<br/>
Harry had never seen his uncle move so fast in all his life.<br/>
The door to the kitchen was locked faster Harry could shout- “That’s mine!”</p><p> </p><p>After the letter rain madness Harry didn’t know what to think. What the hell was going on? Was this the world's most elaborate practical joke? In the long car journey to who knows where, Harry couldn’t stop theorising and pondering. Had he gone mad? Were they now driving to some sort of mental hospital?</p><p>The boat trip only added further to his list of questions. But the mood onboard was like glass, a second away from shattering and ripping them to pieces, so he kept quiet. As did Dudley, so that was a blessing.</p><p>The island was remarkable in that, if they approached it from any other angle, it would sink the boat and shred them all against its rocks. If Mr Dursley was right, and there was a storm coming, then he pitied the lady who had rowed them here, and who now had to get back before the wind picked up.</p><p>At least there was a roof over their heads and four walls to shelter them from the worst of it, however holey and smelly those were, thought Harry. It was his birthday tomorrow so he was trying to stay as positive as possible.<br/>
Unfortunately when your bed for the night is a dusty rug, that’s a hard thing to do. </p><p>Eventually the occupants of the shack drifted one by one to sleep.  All except Harry. As he drew his sad little dust cake, he kept an eye on Dudley’s wrist watch. It silently hit a new day and he blew out his ‘candles’. Dull dust motes danced in celebration of his birthday.  Harry sneezed.</p><p>The first knock shook him to his bones.  He worried his sneeze had woken Mr Dursley who was now coming over to give him hell for it.<br/>
The second was even louder and fully woke the other residents of the shack.<br/>
Then the third knock broke down the door and Harry was glad he went to the toilet before bed.</p><p>A monster of a man carefully replaced the door after stepping through it.</p><p>“Couldn’t make us a cup of tea could ya?”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>After the hierarchy of the room had been established with Hagrid sat firmly on top, the arguments about how much Harry knew began.</p><p>All of this left the poor boy more than a bit confused. If it wasn’t a car crash that killed his parent’s, then he’d been lied to his whole life? Why?  What truth would be so bad that he wasn’t allowed to know?<br/>
Hagrid handed him his letter and explained it all. Harry felt like he was going to throw up, except thankfully he’d eaten so little.. Magic? Dark forces? His parents murdered? This was surely some sick game being played on him.</p><p>The letter almost looked like some sort of invitation to a private school or at least how Harry imagined one of those would look like, except it also made exactly no sense. He had to read it several times over before he could get any meaning at all from it.</p><p>It seemed this Hagrid wanted to come and take him away. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing, but Mr &amp; Mrs Dursley seemed upset by it, which was a shock.<br/>
Although they were now more disgusted by him than Harry had ever seen them be before, and that was saying something.</p><p>The whole argument mostly passed him by after that, until he was forcibly brought back in by the newcomer (‘Hagrid he said his name was?’) asking him a question?</p><p>“Ever made things happen when you was scared or angry?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry stared into the fire, desperate to think of something, anything, he’d done that could have been magical. Now he was beginning to consider the idea that  this was real, he couldn’t bear to have it ripped so cruelly from him. He supposed there was that time they went to the zoo for Dudley’s birthday, he could have sworn that snake was talking to him. Then again a day out with the Dursleys was enough to make anyone go a little mad.</p><p>But there was nothing. The bullies at school had always found him an easy target, and his regular bruises had been attributed to his own clumsiness. Surely if he really had magic, then at least once he might have had a lucky escape.  He clamped down on this new hope and reminded himself of that fact… it was something that he would repeat to himself regularly over the next few days.</p><p>Hagrid however, had taken his thoughtful silence as confirmation. </p><p>Harry spent the next few hours, even once everyone had finally gone back to sleep, analysing every detail of his life so far trying to find anything that might mean he had magic.</p><p>He fell asleep still searching.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. To Hogwarts! (Na na na ba naaa)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little longer, and the true start of the drama.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Hagrid took him to diagon alley he could no longer deny that magic was real, and a beautiful hope bloomed within him. That stone wall moved, with no buttons or mechanisms to be seen (he checked, and Hargrid waited good-naturedly until he was satisfied). If that wasn’t enough to convince him, the walk to the bank where his supposed inheritance lay was enough.</p><p>At first glance, however, the bank jtself seemed distinctly non-magical Very posh, but with a very  real-world plausibility. It seemed even in this incredible world, multiculturalism was still resisted. Harry wondered if Goblins were allowed to choose other jobs, and how well received they would be. Could a human apply to do Griphooks job? What kind of a name was Griphook anyway? Its clearly the english words “grip” and “hook combined to give the image of something a untrustworthy and potentially dangerous. Did he choose that?</p><p>Somehow, Harry figured that Griphook would not appreciate being asked.</p><p>The ride down to the vault ended any claim to normalcy the bank had managed to hold onto, but had been educational for all three party members.</p><p>Harry found out dragons exist.</p><p>Hagrid found out that  stalagmites are the ones that come up from the floor (and he can remember this by thinking “mites crawl on the floor”) and stalactites come down from the ceiling (as remembered by “you pull the tights down” but Harry didn’t really understand that yet).</p><p>Griphook found out that Harry is a squib: no real wizard has that much common sense or understanding of science.</p><p> </p><p>Harry was minted. When he first saw that shining pile of cold, hard gold (and silver and bronze) he had to resist the overwhelming urge to belly flop into it and roll around for a while. Thankfully then he remembered that money is one of the dirtiest, most germy things ever and resolved to wash his hands later.</p><p>-----<br/>The Wand</p><p>Harry pushed open the surprisingly heavy door to the wand shop. Olivander’s could have probably done with hiring a cleaner Harry thought. </p><p>He stepped up to the desk, and rang the bell. A slight shuffle alerted him to another customer, a slightly chubby boy his age holding what Harry assumed must be a wand. They exchanged an awkward nod.</p><p>“Hello there!” Harry jumped a bit as the elderly man appeared, ladder still in hand.</p><p>“Uh… hi. I’m here to -” Even as the words left his mouth he cringed at himself.</p><p>“You must be Mr Potter! My my, has it really been that long since… it must have been. Mr Longbottom’s father came here on the same day as your own, so last minute, tut tut.”<br/>As he talked a measuring tape started flying around his arms, legs, and other places.</p><p>“Try this one Mr Longbottom”</p><p>A few wands for both boys later and Harry was feeling a sickly fear. The boy with the… unfortunate name, had managed to explode a vase, freeze the spilled water (and slip on it) and start a small fire (which Ollivander had expertly put out). Harry? Nothing. The creeping dread wound further up his throat with every wand he tried.</p><p>Until he got quite incredibly lucky. </p><p>“I wonder…” Olivander brought a wand he seemed to hold with reverence and fear. </p><p>Mr Longbottom meanwhile had also just been handed a new wand to try too, and this is where Harry had his first major stroke of luck in his life. </p><p>As Olivander handed Harry his wand, the other boy tried a very tentative flick. </p><p>In Harry’s direction.</p><p>A warm breeze smelling faintly of dust pushed at Harry's hair and clothes. He clung to the wand in alarm, and briefly wondered if he had done that. The air cooled and the smell faded. out of the corner of his eye Harry saw the other boy put down the wand and guilty look around.</p><p>“My my… the wand chooses the wizard Mr Potter…” Or witch, Harry silently corrected. “It just so happens this wand had a sister, and its sister… well, it gave you that scar…”</p><p>He fled the shop pretty soon after that, leaving the other boy to continue his search.</p><p> </p><p>Then the spending spree began in earnest and Harry was pushed into shop after shop. All this social interaction was really wearing him down. He hadn’t had this many politely awkward conversations with people who would really rather be at home since parents evening.</p><p>Meeting Draco Malfoy had not helped. He had no idea if he was pure blood or not. Frankly he was pretty sure being only made of blood was a little far fetched even for this strange world.<br/>He was a little disappointed when Hargrid explained that it was just another part of the apparently very complicated, multi-leveled, wizard version of racism. For a very surreal moment, he wondered if he had just met a young wizard hitler.<br/>. <br/>He was saved from these musings by the best and strangest gift he had ever been given. Hedwig.</p><p> </p><p>…..</p><p> </p><p>The Train</p><p> </p><p>Meeting Ronald Weasley and Herminone Granger on the train to Hogwarts was objectively the luckiest event in Harry’s life. Of course he didn’t know that yet.</p><p>“Can you do anything yet?” Ron asked. All of a sudden Harry's insecurities came rushing forward and he felt his eyes fill. He looked to the floor and mumbled.</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, my brother taught me a spell but I havent got it to work yet. Wanna see?”</p><p>“Sure.” Harry had yet to see a proper spell maybe it would help him…</p><p>Just as the boy (who had introduced himself with the almost normal name of Ronald Weasley) pulled his wand from… somewhere, the door to the compartment opened. A girl with truly impressive hair (and teeth, lets not forget her big teeth WB) stood holding a book. Her mildly harassed face melted into curiosity at Harry and then excitement at Ron's wand (get your mind outta the gutter! they are 11 damn you!).</p><p>“Oh you're doing magic? Let's see it!” she demanded. Like most boys that age, Ron was a little frightened of the girl and immediately complied.</p><p>“Uh, right.” Ron cleared his throat .</p><p>“Sunshine, daisys, butter, mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” </p><p>A pulse of something fired from Ron’s wand (stop it) but the rat stayed firmly its grubby brown colour. Harry was impressed enough, but the girl seemed to expect a little more to happen.</p><p>“Are you sure that's a real spell? Well it’s not a very good one is it?” The fear that Ron felt now passed to Harry as the girl closed the train door and sat by him.</p><p>“I’ve only learned a few spells myself but they’ve worked fine.” </p><p>‘Show off’ Harry thought bitterly.</p><p>“For example -” The girl pointed her wand at Harry’s face.</p><p>‘Uh oh not good’. </p><p>“Occulus reparo.” A … something washed over Harry’s face. When he felt it was safe to open his eyes again, he noticed his vision was no longer blurred from smudges on his glasses. He took them off to inspect them and noticed with astonishment that they were no longer held together by sellotape.</p><p>The boys collective ‘woahs’ melted together in the air.</p><p>“Your Harry Potter, I’ve read about you.” the girl stated, and Harry had a sudden empathy with the mice Hedwig hunts.</p><p>“Uh, yeah”</p><p>“I’m Hermione Granger.” The girl with the painfully middle class name stuck her hand out for Harry to shake. With the care of a brain surgeon Harry gave Herminone his hand. She turned her lazer focus to Ron and Harry relaxed a bit.</p><p>“Ron Weasley.” said Ron, who also received a handshake. </p><p>Herminone stood, and pulled open the door. But before they were safe again she turned back to Ron.</p><p>“By the way you have a little dirt on your nose, just there.” and with that she left and the two boys sunk into their seats. </p><p> </p><p>The onion haired boy popped by too, and they were rescued by Scabbers, Ron's hand-me-down rat with another weird name. <br/>Turns out the blond boy, Draco Malfoy, and his freind’s Crabbe and Goyle (For some reason their first names were not important). Harry was starting to suspect all wizards hated their children and gave them weird names.</p><p>Harry and Ron proceeded to eat their feelings until the train finally stopped.</p><p> </p><p>Their bags were sent away, and the first years were separated and taken to some suspiciously rickety boats.<br/>There was a small delay - Nevile had lost his toad, because of course Nevile had a toad, Harry wondered if his parents understood how cruel it was to allow their clearly a little clumsy son to not only have a surname like Longbottom, but to have a pet toad. Not even a cute one.</p><p>The sail over to the school was cold, but still astounding, like a firework display but it was just the biggest, most beautiful castle and the darkest lake he’d ever imagined. For all his mild sarcasm about the wizards and witches names the sight of the castle brought a tear to his eye. </p><p> </p><p>Twenty minutes and what felt like a step count higher than Johanne’s bank balance, they had finally made it into the castle. The first years were made to wait in a large reception chamber. The smell of cooking food temping their bellies. The students theorising about what is going to happen next. Oh and the ghosts.</p><p>Harry was more than uncomfortable.</p><p>He overheard someone say there was a test see what house you belonged in. Some kind of magical trial. He turned to Ron.</p><p>“You don’t think they would do that right?!” Harry was unable to keep the fear from his voice.</p><p>“Nah, ‘course not, even the kids with wizard parents don't know much magic, but there are plenty with muggle parents who don’t know anything.” Ron answer helped Harry calm a little but then he added- </p><p>“My brother told me that you have to fight a dragon barehanded, but I think he was joking.” That bit was less reassuring.</p><p>By the time a stern, scotish professor came to shepherd them to the great hall, Harry's heart had slowed from a rock bands drum solo, to a mere techno pulsing. Although, that might have been him recovering from the exertion.</p><p> </p><p>The great hall was.. great. In both size and decor the room screamed high fantasy,  and that was before he had even looked up. When he heard Herminone explain something about the ceiling, Harry craned his neck up. <br/>And damn near fell on his face. It was a hypnotising deep blackness, just like the sky tonight.</p><p>Harry was well aware he looked like a gaping tourist, but he was increasingly feeling like one. He was very out of place.</p><p>The scotish Professor (who introduced herself as Mcgonagall, which stuck Harry as exactly what an elderly scotish lady would be called) explained the sorting hat ceremony and everyone but Harry relaxed.</p><p>That hat would know, he frantically worried, it would tell everyone he was a fake, a fraud and a liar. The more names that were called the further into misery Harry fell. Herminone got put in Gryffindor, a fact that did not surprise Harry one bit, that girl had no concept of fear.<br/>Harry on the other hand…</p><p>When his name was called he felt rooted to the spot, like a dream. It took a monumental amount of effort to shuffle into the limelight. <br/>The hall went very quiet as he perched on the rickety stool.<br/>Mcgonagall placed the hat on Harry’s head.</p><p> </p><p>A voice rasped in Harry’s mind and he prayed that nobody else could hear it.</p><p>“Hmm, what have we here, Harry Potter eh? I remember your paren- oh.”</p><p>The voice went very quiet, for a long time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Problem with charms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The begining of the Hogwarts year! </p>
<p>Thanks again MagRaven for betaing! (Go check out her fic !)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry sat perched on the stool desperately trying to avoid eye contact with over a thousand nosey students. The silence stretched and he waited for something to happen.</p>
<p>The next sound Harry heard was an odd creaking, like old leather cracking. The noise got  gradually louder until Harry realised it was laughing. The hat was laughing.</p>
<p>The hat of course, had never before been in such a predicament before; it was only a couple of tear ducts away from completely drowning in tears of mirth. <br/>‘My my’ it thought to itself ‘things are about to get quite interesting indeed.Harry Potter the chosen one, the boy who defeated Voldemort (the hat had no fear of a hairless man) is a squib! But what to do with him…’ </p>
<p>The hat pondered in silence, usually he would give the student a running commentary or witty banter, but in this case he was enjoying leaving Harry to sweat.<br/>‘I should tell… But oh how much fun! A squib student!’.</p>
<p>Over the years, the hat had become quite good friends with a certain poltergeist. The pair had pulled many epic pranks and japes together (mainly involving Peeves sneakily swapping him with a student’s regular hat. The student would then receive a shock when their hat suddenly began to comment on their thoughts or moral character.) Peeves had rubbed off on the hat and so it had grown a love of mischief. </p>
<p>It took the hat nearly a whole minute to recover from its hysteria, realising there was really only one obvious choice for a boy of 11 with no magical talent. The boy clearly had… uh gumption... to sit on this stool and hope to survive Hogwarts.  </p>
<p>The hat finally stopped laughing.</p>
<p>Harry opened his mouth to say something, although he had no idea what. However at that exact moment the hat cried aloud, for all the hall to hear - </p>
<p>“GRYFFINDOR!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A righteous chorus of cheers and boos pushed Harry back a little when he stood. He was directed to sit at the table of his brand new house.</p>
<p>What followed was a bit of a whirlwind for poor Harry, who was just relieved to still be here. He would later remember only the food, which was, hands down the best he had ever eaten. Although that wasn’t exactly saying much, no offence to his Aunts cooking, but living on Dudley’s scraps (of which there were few) was nowhere near the equal of a Hogwarts banquet.</p>
<p>Ron was sorted into his house and another, more normal anxiety, eased in Harry. Ron settled on the bench next to him, and for the rest of the feast Harry was filled with a sense of home. This is where he should be, in this world with these people. Laughing at jokes, dressed in these ridiculous robes, the little bubble of hope grew to a river.<br/>His place here was fragile for sure, but he couldn’t entertain the idea of leaving, or going back to the Dursleys to be neglected and abused the rest of his life. Somehow, he had been offered this golden chance at a true home, a new life. </p>
<p>In a dreamlike state of surreal bliss (perhaps the hot chocolate was spelled to help the students sleep on their first night?) Harry followed Ron's brother Percy upstairs and down corridors. He half listened to the lectures about portraits and passwords until he collapsed in his perfect new bed, exhausted. His mind buzzed with questions that felt muted. Unhurried. <br/>As Harry lay his head down on the feather pillow, he promised himself that would not miss this chance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His first day as a student of course, was an unmitigated disaster. </p>
<p>It turns out magic is hard. Especially if you don’t have any.</p>
<p>The first challenge was finding breakfast. Ron and Harry nervously followed an older looking student who they hoped wasn't skipping eating today. So far, so good; Harry and Ron were lucky and their only obstacle was a moving staircase that almost left them stranded, guideless. Thankfully their unknowing saviour stopped to chat with Nearly Headless Nick.</p>
<p>Having made it safely to breakfast with just enough time to wolf down some toast and water, the boys were feeling good. <br/>The heads of houses, aided by prefects, were handing out timetables to first years. Harry considered how madly disorganised the whole operation was, and wondered if anyone had ever ended up without one.</p>
<p>Charms. As first lessons go this sounded to Harry like a doozy. He imagined making necklaces and bracelets. <br/>He and Ron followed a few of their classmates, all of whom were in agreement: if they were going to get lost, it was better to get lost together. At least that way they would all be late. As it happened, a braver member of the group (ironically, a hufflepuff) asked a kindly seeming older student for directions and they were on time for their first ever class.</p>
<p>Between worrying about magic, lessons and getting lost, Harry had, thus far managed to tune out the general murmurings and whispered conversations that followed him around the school. But when Professor Flitwick fell off his little tower of books upon reaching Harry's name, he realised that his lineage and history were going to cause him some extra issues.<br/>Hargird had explained why he was famous, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of that fame. He felt his face heat up as the Professor scrambled up again.</p>
<p>Charms, as it turns out - is not a doosy. Flitwick explained the basics of the first spell they were to learn,it was a levitating spell. Harry knew no matter how many times the Professor made the class repeat the pronunciation, the movement and the theory, he was never going to make anything float.</p>
<p>Thankfully the first class was only  theory based, and he would have another three days to figure out how to make a feather float without any magic. </p>
<p>Class dismissed, the students excitedly chatter to each other as they leave. Harry was silent as Ron expressed his impatience at having to wait to try the spell.</p>
<p>Next up, potions class. Snape’s reputation as a bully preceded him. Vague warnings from Ron’s brothers echoed in Harry’s mind and a shiver rippled down his spine. <br/>He pulled Ron aside once they were sure they had found the right room. </p>
<p>“Ron - I need you to promise to keep a secret. It's important.” Harry urgently whispered. Already, he felt he could trust Ron but If it was discovered Ron had been keeping his secret it could get him in big trouble. It had to be Ron’s decision.</p>
<p>“Uh… Yeah sure.” Ron’s reply was not the most encouraging.</p>
<p>“I don’t belong here. I’ve never done magic, I’ve tried - but it never does anything. When I got my wand there was this other boy, Neville I think? The shopkeeper thought I’d done something but it wasn’t me!”. <br/>Harry gasped for breath, having said it out loud, it had suddenly become very very real.</p>
<p>A pregnant pause followed. Ron’s face betrayed a kind of numb shock before it suddenly relaxed. He gave Harry a nervous smile.</p>
<p>“Are you sure mate? Surely someone would have noticed. You must just not have ever been stressed or whatever enough to let something slip.” The last part grew in pitch as it went on. Like Ron wasn’t sure it was a question.</p>
<p>“Ron. I am an 11 year pre-op trans boy, who has been bullied at school and at home for as long as I can remember. My parents are dead, I recently found out they were murdered, and that I am famous in a mad magical secret world.  I think it's not a case of never having enough motivation to force a magical reaction.” Harry grumbled.</p>
<p>“Ah right… Uh Harry?”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“What does ‘pre-op’ trans mean?” </p>
<p>He opened his mouth to answer, but purposefully footsteps clapping against the stone floor interrupted his thought. </p>
<p>“That's probably Snape, come on.” </p>
<p>As the pair hurried into the classroom after the Professor, Harry wondered at what a strange world he had entered into. Children here were all very relaxed about things like magic, dragons and moving staircases, but still just as unaware of basic gender identity stuff.<br/>Mind you, Harry figured, he himself had learned about that through sneaking uses of Dudley’s computer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Trouble with Porcupines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, sorry its a little late, I had some deadlines last week.<br/>Ive really enjoyed writing this chapter, and as ever thank you to the wonderful Mag, who as well as correcting my spelling of McGgonagall every, single, time, also provided fun facts. </p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day was not improved upon by Snape. I guess that's not really much of a surprise.</p><p>Harry had barely reached his seat when the hooked nose Professor started on his students. Neville had apparently knocked over a jar of something unpleasant, and although the glass itself was undamaged (someone had wisely enchanted it for safety, probably a muggle born lets be honest).  Snape still took the opportunity to publicly ridicule the poor boy for his clumsiness.</p><p>It seemed Harry was destined to always cause a pause in the register, this time it was a little less well meaning.</p><p>“Our new celebrity…” Snape looked up directly into Harry’s eyes, causing the boy to wonder how Snape recognized him so quickly.  He hadn't even answered his name yet, and was never given the opportunity to.</p><p>Snape started with a pop quiz; Harry didn’t even know how to spell most of the words, let alone what they were. (incidentally I also don’t know how to spell those words…)</p><p>“It seems fame isn’t everything…” </p><p>Hermione seemed to know the answers, and Harry kicked himself for not sitting next to her (or attempting to do pre-reading).  In fact, Harry very quickly realised that Herminone wasn't so much learning in class as revising. </p><p>When Snape explained they could be making a potion today, Harry balked.  He couldn’t do that?!  It would need magic, and he would fail, and be sent back to the Dursleys, and - </p><p>Wait.</p><p>Harry frowned as he watched Snape make the potion; it didn’t seem like he was really using any magic. It looked complicated, sure, but he was just following a recipe, one that Harry, and all the students had in their textbooks.<br/>
The ingredients themselves, and the process of concoction seemed like the driving force of the magic in potions. Some of the ingredients came from magical creatures!  Harry wouldn’t need to do anything particularly magical himself!<br/>
At the end of the demonstration they rushed off to attempt their own Cure for boil potions. In unison, the classed rummaged through the textbook to find the written instructions (because of course Snape hadn’t started with the easiest potion, at the start of the book: fairy repellant)</p><p>The rest of the lesson was almost fun for Harry, yes Snape watching like a hawk was uncomfortable, and it did require more focus than anything he’d ever done, but Harry was doing magic. Real, propper magic! </p><p>He handed his potion in only a minute or so after Herminone, so he was pretty pleased. At least he was until someone ‘accidently’ smashed his finished potion. I’ll give ya two guesses who it was.</p><p>“Clean it up Mr Potter.”</p><p>"Yes sir." Harry grumbled.  Angry as he was, he did not need to make Snape any more of a problem, he has plenty of those already.</p><p>Ron lingered a moment, not quite sure if he should help Harry with the broken glass. One firm glare from Snape however had him scurrying out of the door. </p><p>Thankfully, Harry had plenty of experience sweeping.</p><p> </p><p>///</p><p>Once he escaped the dungeon classroom, finding Ron in the hallway, it was off to lunch. They were slightly late, but again following hungry looking older students got them where they needed to go. </p><p>The food was once again, plentiful and delicious.  Harry began to wonder how the older students didn't get very overweight.  Perhaps there were weight loss spells. Although Harry wasn't keen on the idea of magical thinning, and privately promised himself not to need it. Still, after years of being underfed, he did relish the feeling of a full belly.</p><p>When Harry looked up, he found Ron watching him thoughtfully. At least it looked thoughtful, he might have been just daydreaming. It was hard to tell with Ron.</p><p>Both boys ate with a ravenous hunger, after all they were growing. Ron ate like his food might be pinched, but  there was always going to be enough. Sure, he guarded his food with his elbows, and he did eat a lot.  But Ron still savoured his food in a way Harry sometimes forgot to.</p><p>Silently, Ron passed him another tray of sandwiches.</p><p>///</p><p>Next up was history of magic, and while Professor Binns wasn't the most engaging teacher, Harry jumped at the idea of a lesson he wouldn't even need a shred of magic for.  </p><p>He and Herminone were the only ones paying attention after about half an hour. Yet Harry wondered why the others were so bored? Tales of Goblin and Giant wars against epic mages was a fascinating topic. If Binns was more engaging, it would easily be his favorite subject so far.<br/>
He wondered what effect these wars had on the muggle world.</p><p>On his world. </p><p>Despite the home he felt Hogwarts becoming, Harry was still an outsider in this world. Perhaps, if he knew its history though, he could start to change that.</p><p>The class all jumped when Binns suddenly declared the class over.</p><p>///</p><p>The last class in an exhausting, emotional day was Transfiguration and aside from the name eliciting a giggle from him, Harry had no idea what to expect.<br/>
He could barely spell Transfiguration, let alone tell you when it meant. His only clue was the first part of the word, but Harry suspected that all magic transitioned things in some way or another. He really hoped this wasn't some kind of medical magic.</p><p>They got lost on the way (really they should put up signs) and were slightly late. Not detention late, but raised eyebrows and snippy comments late. </p><p>Professor McGonagall quickly proved herself Queen of the pout and the undisputed authority of the classroom. The students found themselves clinging to her every word, none more so than Harry.<br/>
McGonagall spent the first half of the class explaining what Transfiguration really was and what they were going to do in the second half.</p><p>Turn a porcupine quill, into a needle.</p><p>If Harry knew any really good swear words they would have been racing around his head about now. He focused on everything McGonagallsaid in the hope of some explanation  that would suddenly unlock his magical talent.  Preferably before the practical part of the lesson so he wasn't thrown out on his first day.<br/>
He would have sweated through his robes if the room wasn't so well ventilated.</p><p>"You may now begin" McGonagall ended with the force of an axe swing.</p><p>Without much hope Harry repeated the movements and sounds the spell required. Again and again. Nothing.</p><p>Most people had at least managed to change the quill somehow. Even Neville’s looked like it had grown a few odd little branches.<br/>
Harry's was exactly the same as it was when it was pulled from the poor creature.(*note from my editor, Mag, Porcupines shed their quills, which are like hair. Harry doesn't know that though*)</p><p>McGonagall walked around the classroom, examining each student's progress. All he needed to do was show some change to the quill, preferably a change towards needledom.<br/>
An idea fizzed into his head, but the room was so quiet, he would need a distraction.</p><p>Right on que, Hermione proudly displayed her perfect needle to the professor, giving Harry the perfect chance. While Mcgonagall praised Hermione and showed the class her success, Harry slid half his quill off his desk and wrenched it in half. He covered the snap with a cough and hid the blunt end in his robe.</p><p>A cool wave of relief passed over him when McGonagall picked up his half broken quill and gave a short sigh through her nose. It was no glowing praise, but at least he had survived. </p><p>Class dismissed.</p><p>Harry left quickly, hoping nobody could see him shaking.</p><p>"You okay mate? You look pale, maybe you should get some food mate."  Ron clapped him on the back.</p><p>"Uh yeah…" Harry dropped his voice and gently pulled Ron aside. "Do you have any idea where I could find a needle?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't forget to leave kudos and maybe a comment too 😉<br/>Any suggestions, requests, questions are all welcome!</p><p>Phew some sadder themes this time eh?</p><p>Hobbit/lotr fans! Try out Mags fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30159399/chapters/74300820</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Her? Oh my... knee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Early this time to makeup for lateness.</p>
<p>Check out the end notes for my tumblr!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After his stressful first day, Harry realised just how much he would need to work to continue to pass as a wizard. </span>
  <span>It took an embarrassingly long time to figure out where to find a needle Harry could use to “transfigure” his porcupine quill into. Even with Ron's help</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Herminone!” Harry exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table at dinner. He’d said it quietly enough that only those sitting nearby gave him alarmed looks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha?” Ron gave Harry a familiar vacant stare, not dissimilar to the surrounding older Gryffindor students.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry lowered his voice to a mutter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The clever girl, from the train?” He clarified.  Harry was pretty good with names, but Ron struggled sometimes. It was early days, he’d get there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh her.” Ron replied, a glimmer of recognition passing over his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She still has her needle, all I need to do is ask if I could borrow it.” Harry stood, his food only momentarily forgotten before Ron pulled him back and handed him a plate of steak slices.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, bellies full, the boys left the great hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where will we find her? Do you think she’ll be in the common room?” Harry asked. </span>
  <span>With a long glance at the clock Ron grinned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Libraries still open.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. Right. Good point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They found Herminone buried in an intimidating looking book. Harry made a mental note to be nice -  if she hit him with that book it was sure to leave lasting damage. </span>
  <span>Of course, he realised, that was a very muggle thought.  She did not need any heavy weapon to do him serious damage.</span>
  <span>A shiver ran down Harry’s spine, that was something he'd think about later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron opened his mouth to interrupt Herminones reading, but Harry quickly shushed him. They waited at a safe distance for her to finish the chapter before approaching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, hi.” Harry stammered out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Herminone looked up, and the sight that she was presented with made it incredibly difficult not to laugh. The two boys huddled close together, visibly cautious of her.  They had approached her like she was some Queen in need of submission (Don’t you dare, head out of the gutter). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She narrowed her gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Harry, Ron.” She nodded to each of them, and waited for an explanation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry took a deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was wondering if you had that needle. You know the one you tran- uh - transfiguhh- you know.” Half way through the word ‘transfigured’ he became unsure, was that what it was called? All these new terms would take a while to sink in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Herminone blinked, that was unexpected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes… Why…?” She asked with suspicion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhhh.” Harry stubbled, he couldn't exactly tell the truth could he?  He searched his brain for a convincing lie. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s never seen one.” Ron blurted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry fought to keep his face blank as he slowly turned to glare at Ron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh. We’ve never seen one. A needle!  I mean we’ve never seen a needle, so we were hoping that we could have yours to uh study.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A small part of Harry forgave Ron straight away.  Talking to strangers, especially girls, was a little intimidating, and his friend was just trying to help. But the roar of abject misery and humiliation drowned that small part to a whisper, and Harry wondered if having Ron as a friend might cause him more problems that it would solve (Of course, the opposite is true, poor Ron).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boys looked hopefully to Hermione and in the long silence that followed she looked from one boy to the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, she brightened to a sunny grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you can. Here you go Harry.” She plucked the needle from where it was weaved into her robe and offered it on her palm. Her eyes dug into Harrys as he accepted it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” The boys mumbled together, quickly retreating to another corner of the library.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>//</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s work wasn’t done there however.  With the help of Ron’s brothers, Fred and George for intel, Harry sent Hedwig with some of his wizard money to someone who could exchange it for muggle money.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His next job that evening was to read. He figured out what the students would be learning tomorrow, and from there started to think about strategies he could use to avoid detection. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few ideas began brewing in his brain. One in particular he wasn’t eager to enact, but could be necessary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually he was shooed out of the library and took his work to the common room.  Helpfully, he was able to follow Herminone, because he still wasn’t sure of the route.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a long while before Harry followed Ron up to their dorm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The morning came, and punished him for neglecting sleep. Dreams of strange forces slamming into his head had plagued him. Unable to move, there had been nothing he could do to protect himself from being hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron gently shook him awake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Harry, time to wake up. We have an hour before DADA - so let's go get breakfast."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Wah?" Harry grumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Defence against the dark arts. It sounds exciting, but I dunno, I reckon that Quirrell won't let us do anything too interesting. Fred says he's afraid of his own shadow." </span>
  <span>As Ron pondered what was for breakfast today, Harry pulled himself up and dressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The textbook started with some wand safety lectures so Harry felt pretty confident he'd be okay there. All he needed to know was the theory, stuff like ‘don't put your wand in any pockets close to the skin and don't lick, or bite your wand’ (even little Harry sniggered at that). Ron's acronym brought another level of humor to the whole subject.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay then, breakfast, then we go to dada." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>///</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure enough, Quirrell seemed like he would be teaching pure theory, much to everyone's disappointment (except Harry's). Although, even the watered down syllabus Qurriell gave them left Harry jumpy. </span>
  <span>Monsters and evil wizards were a lot easier to stomach with the comfort that you could learn the spells to overcome them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>// </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next up was Transfiguration, and Harry, despite his new plan, was a tad nervous. When they arrived at the class, it wasn't just the commute that had him a little sweaty. </span>
  <span>McGonagall wasted no time handing out new porcupine quills to everyone. </span>
  <span>They were told to keep practicing. Any successes during the first half of the class would win house points. </span>
  <span>Harry and his classmates began waving their wands, almost in sync with each other. A shared rhythm filled the class, punctuated by the occasional hiss, thump or crack of magic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A couple of students managed to get their needles almost right, but only Herminone had been completely successful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn't do it now, it was too soon.  He had to wait until a few others were successful or she might make him give him another quill to change - or worse ask him to demonstrate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As a few students managed to transfigure their quills, and the halfway point was creeping near, Harry again wondered if now was the right time. He might be able to get some house points even.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he found Mgonigals gaze fixed upon him, like the damn eye of Sauron. Harry's pulse throbbed in his ears. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why was she watching him? Did she know? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Images of being sent home raced through his mind. Having to explain to the Dursleys why he'd been sent back. Maybe they'd even be nicer to him if he was found to be 'normal'. Probably not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he dared to look up, McGonagall's laser eyes had shifted; a wave of relief so powerful washed over him that he had to stifle a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry reminded himself that it was her job to keep an eye on students, and he was, after all famous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, the easy life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The clock ticked on, and Harry was stuck trying to figure out a way to distract McGonagall. </span>
  <span>Maybe if he could signal to Ron? </span>
  <span>He looked up to do just that when Harry noticed a new pair of eyes on him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Herminone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made eye contact for a long moment and - was that a smirk?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Miss, I wonder could you look at this? My needle has stripes and I'm not sure what caused-" Herminone started discussing her work and Harry's jaw dropped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Did she just-? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry very nearly missed his chance out of pure shock. He pulled himself together long enough to reach into his robes and scrabble around for the needles. </span>
  <span>For a heart-stopping moment he couldn’t find the damn thing. Until a sharp pain burst from his finger, and he swapped the needle for the quill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A minute or so later Herminone released Mcgonagall from her questions. Harry raised his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Mr Potter. Well, lets see…" she paused, examining his needle between her fingers (Omg no stop it, this isn't even a wand thing).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Well done Mr Potter, perfect, except-" Harry jumped in alarm. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"-Are you incapable of handling anything sharp without injury?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He checked his finger, a small bead of blood had formed on his tip (no.).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He offered a sheepish smile.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew some plotty stuff.</p>
<p>Follow me on tumblr @axe-does- writing to keep up to date and stuff. Or bookmark it.<br/>Check out my wonderful beta reader @magravenwrites too!</p>
<p>Kudos and comments are very appreciated, but love to ghosts too.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title is funny because I do philosophy okay.</p><p>Should I do ships? What ships should I do? It wont be explict bc they are kids ofc.</p><p>Leave kudos plz.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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